One
by Yorik
Summary: It takes a man to admit that he is wrong. A fight in the rain changes Remus' view on life forever. IN THE PROCESS OF BEING EDITED
1. Chapter 1

**One**

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is not mine.

Chapter Two

* * *

As far as good days go, today ranks pretty miserable on a scale of one to Doxy droppings.

The rain is falling in thick sheets; it feels like ice. I'm shivering and I think he is too. I can barely see him through the haze. Is it trying to protect him? It isn't fair. He's always been protected.

His breathing is heavy and labored. It mists in the chilly air and for a moment I imagine that he spontaneously combusts, burning from the inside out. Maybe then he'll know what it feels like. Fuckin' hell, I hate him right now and I wouldn't mind watching him suffer. _God_, I want him to suffer.

The rain does all the talking; there isn't much for us to say anyway. We've been having this conversation for months in covert, silent exchanges and strained moonlit excursions. God, I want to hurt him. His chest heaves and he clenches his fists. I can see him thinking, deciding whether or not to make the first move. I can almost see the cogs working beneath his hair.

_That's right. Come and get me._

I hear someone shouting and wonder why they sound so far away. I spare a glance and think _this is the last fucking straw_ because the stupid bint is running towards us. She's saying something, but the rain drowns her out. _Don't interfere_. She looks desperate and reaches out but then I see two arms pull her back out of nowhere. It must be Sirius.

I smile. He knows what to do. He's been here before.

Lily Evans is like a cancer. You can attempt to ignore, avoid, or surgically remove her, but it doesn't matter – in the end she forces her way in to your life and suffocates you. She works slowly and attacks your vitals first. You don't even notice until it's too late. Suddenly everything starts going to shit and you're arguing more and hurting more and then you wind up throwing punches in a storm. This is all her stupid fault. If it weren't for her, none of this would have happened.

James shifts slightly, and I wonder whether or not he's about to run at me. I can't make out his expression from here. I think I knocked his glasses off the last time I punched him, but I'm not sure. This werewolf deal is disappointing to say the least – couldn't it have given me super-strength to go along with my insatiable lust for violence? My life is a joke. Ha. Fuckin' hilarious.

My face is swelling up. I don't have to see myself to know it isn't pretty. There go my chances of being a Witch Weekly coverboy. My wounds sting a little bit, so that probably means that I'm bleeding. _Wonderful_. My lip is cut. I can taste myself, warm and coppery despite the cold. My knuckles are bruised and worn. Right now I'm wondering what James' face looks like. I never expected him to punch so fucking hard – he has a seeker's build, after all. Or maybe it's just that I'm too weak. Too weak from last month.

All this motion has reopened my wounds. It hurts like a bitch, but I'm not about to let him know that. That gash on my side is the worst off. My clothes are clinging to me like a second skin, and as I shift it tears me open a little bit more. Damn water's adhesive properties.

But now isn't a time to be thinking of primary school science. He calls my name.

"Remus."

I don't answer, but I look straight into his eyes. Or what I can make of them, anyway. The rain has suddenly turned violent, like it's reading my mind, blurring my vision. I can't make out his face from here. Is it swollen like mine? Have I been able to inflict an equal or even greater amount of damage on him? I don't know. Not yet, anyway.

"Remus," he says again.

"What?" I ask.

"You're sick."

He spits it out like some sort of poison. _I'm_ sick? _Me?_ Of course not. He's delusional. Why can't he understand that _he's_ the one who needs help? Is it Evans again? What has she been telling him now? Whispering things into his ear…

She's killed us.

She's killed the marauders.

This is pissing me off.

James is still holding his ground. He knows it's the right thing to do, the noble bastard. He's so goddamn smug about it too. But I'm not James, and I don't care about what's right and what's wrong. All I want to do is to smash something to a pulp. Preferably James' face. I think I'd enjoy that.

Suddenly I find myself flying through the air at a hundredandsomething miles per hour. It takes three seconds for my fist to connect with his nose. There's a sickening crunching noise, although it's barely audible above the rain, and he yells. I'm smiling again. I think I broke his nose. He swears, and digs his elbow into my ribs.

_Oof!_

I'm winded. For a moment I feel like the empty hole that I am, and my head reels. I detect movement near my ear, so I turn around and kick blindly. A groan tells me I've hit my target. Five seconds later, he gets me in the face, and I can feel all my teeth becoming dislodged. Blood pours into my mouth and down my throat. I choke a little. I think I swallowed a tooth.

_Bastard._

Evans is screaming, although I'm almost positive that she can't see the state we're in. James maneuvers to the left, but I already know what he's going to do. I duck, and jam my elbow into his collarbone, but at the same time he manages to knee me in the groin. I'm thinking, _'how did that happen?'_ as we both fall to the ground in a bloody, crumpled, soggy heap.

Our faces are close enough for us to kiss. His face is downcast and twisted in pain. I try to smile, but it hurts. I want to rip his heart out of his chest and feed it to the giant squid. I want to step on him until all I feel is the floor. I want to make him cry. I want him to regret abandoning me; abandoning us…for her.  
I'm about to shove him off, but his grip on my arm is too tight. He suddenly looks up at me, and all I can see are his eyes. They are brown, and sad, and…something else, although I can't make out what. He brings me closer to him, and puts his mouth to my ear. I can tell it hurts to speak, because the moment he opens his mouth, he moans. I want him to go away, to go to the harpy who ruined our lives. Then, he croaks, ever so softly. So softly, in fact, that I can barely hear him above the rain.

"Remus," he whispers. "I will never leave you for anything."

His hair is matted to his forehead, his cheek is cut, and the blood from his mouth falls on to my neck. Its warmth is lost to the rain. Suddenly my eyes grow hot, and it takes me a few seconds to realise that I am crying. This wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to _win_.

He takes my hand and caresses it.

"What we have, Remus," he says, "no one can take from us. We are the marauders. Nothing can break us. We are each other's family, and we will always be there for each other. We are _one_."

He looks into my eyes again, his expression serious.

"Do you understand me, Remus Lupin?"

And I say I do.

I smile, and it hurts good.


	2. Chapter 2

**One**

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is not mine.

Chapter Two

* * *

I wake up to the scent of antiseptic and detergent. I know this smell - I must be in the hospital wing. I haven't opened my eyes yet; there's no need - not yet, anyway. My entire body is stiff. I move a little, and a burst of pain shoots through me. _Damn_.

Something's moving towards my right. Perhaps it's James. Do I want to see him? Wait, let me rephrase that - _can I face him?_ I haven't felt this embarrassed in a long time. He taught me a lesson. The irony of this is sickening. _I'm_ supposed to be the mature one!

The first wrong move I make is when I decide to open my eyes.

_Shit._

The light is blinding, although I know for sure the hospital wing is only illuminated by a few candles. I must have groaned or something, because somewhere above me, someone whispers my name.

"Remus?"

_Lovely_.

_Evans_.

I look up into her face, and that's all it takes to remind me that I have a searing headache. We are both motionless, staring at each other dumbly. _This is stupid_. My brain pounds against my skull in a strange rhythm, and I think of war drums and cannibals. I suppose that all things considered, it's a pretty accurate metaphor. This is war; we're fighting over territory: James. Sadly this will not end in a bloodbath. No, I've got to outsmart her.

She's opening her mouth to say something. _No…no…just shut up and go away…_

"Remus."

I suppose I've got to answer now, It's the right thing to do. Unfortunately for her, I'm not feeling too agreeable. Ugh. Oh, fuck it all. Let her talk. After all, it's not like I have to listen. She takes a deep breath. Oh great_, _she's going to take the plunge_._ Why doesn't my brain have an autopilot of sorts, like Wormtail has? He was always so good at tuning out…

"Remus, we have to end this."

I'm not even looking at her. I don't want to. She's the ugliest thing I've ever laid my eyes on. In fact, I can't believe I haven't gone blind. Didn't Medusa's face turn people into stone? What does James see in her? She isn't anything special. She's nothing. A nobody.

"Remus, are you listening to me?"

_What do you think?_

"Look," she says, and her voice drops a few octaves. I can't help but pay attention. Her voice is annoying me. Why won't she just go away?

"Look." She says again, "I couldn't care less about you, Remus. You've been a right arse and I think you deserve to be where you are."

An arse? _Me?_

Oh, this is rich.

"What- or I should say, _whom_ I'm worried about is not you, but James."

_Well hurrah for you, Evans, you're a bloody saint._ If it weren't for her none of this would've happened in the first place, and it's why she should stay the hell away. She is poison to our system. She will kill us; in fact she almost did. I wonder where Sirius is. Why isn't he taking her from me? I have a searing headache and what I imagine to be a hole in my chest. The pain goes all the way down to my bones, though that could just be the _Skelegro_ at work. Frankly this is not a good time for us to be talking. I may do something drastic…like throw myself out of a window.

"Have you seen him yet?"

_Him?_

Oh, James. I try to hoist myself further up my pillow so I can see beyond my feet. At first all I see are empty beds, but then I notice a man-sized lump on the third to my right. It's James - at least, that hair looks familiar. Everything else is bruised and swollen. He looks terrible. When it finally registers that this is my best friend, and that _I'm_ the one who hurt him, my heart plummets into my stomach. All I can see is his face.

_Is he…dead?_ No, he can't be - he wouldn't be here otherwise. You can barely tell that he's breathing. _Oh, God…what have I done?_ I have to go to him. I have to make sure he's going to be okay.

I start to push the sheets off my legs. Evans isn't watching me right now. She's looking at him. She looks sad and I feel this sudden disgusting surge of sympathy and what the hell am I thinking and- _Argh! Hotshitonaplate that fuckin' hurts!_ I thought that I'd be used to pain by now. I suppose not. She suddenly catches me crawling out of bed and she makes a strange grunting noise. Like a pig. Like a pig that's about to be roasted and turned into ham sandwiches.

"What on earth do you think you're doing!"

She isn't loud, but to my ears her voice sounds like a foghorn. I look up at her and glare. This is none of her business. I continue the painful process of getting up. She makes the grunting noise again and pushes me back into bed.

"None of your nonsense, Remus," she says. "You can speak to him in the morning."

I stare at her incredulously. Who the _hell_ does this woman think she is?

"We need to sort ourselves out before we can face him."

That sinking feeling in my stomach must be the painful indication that she's right. If we don't resolve things, then this will continue; although it's Evans I'm fighting, it's James I'm punching. I turn to look at him. I shudder. I never want to see him like this again.

I allow her to tuck me back in to bed. I have no choice. Pomfrey must be asleep, or I'd call for her. Evans' hair looks strangely alluring from this angle. Like maple trees in the autumn, like someone's set it on fire. The funny thing is: I hate red.

Red reminds me of blood. It reminds me of death, of terror, of my horrible childhood. Last night in the rain, all I saw was red. Red is the colour of the blood on my hands, from that one time I got loose. Her hair is like an admonition. It reminds me of everything I'd like to forget.

But somehow, she brings new meaning to the colour.

Action, passion, responsibility, bravery, love.

I don' t understand myself.

I hate her, but she symbolises everything I admire. And when did I turn into such a fucking poet? I sigh and settle back into my pillows. Perhaps I should listen. Perhaps I should hear what she thinks. I don't have much time to process these thoughts because she's already opening her mouth to speak.

"I think we have to start being civil to each other."

I nod reluctantly.

"This is important to him. You're his best friend. If you don't approve then he'll never be happy."

She won't even say his name. _Coward._ Her face is so close to mine I could probably rip her eyes out of their sockets. But I won't. Not until she finishes, anyway.

"What do you say, Remus. Shall we give this a shot?"

She extends her hand to me. We remain motionless for about thirty seconds, although in my head it feels like hours have gone by. Should I take her up on her offer? Oddly enough, I have a sudden mental image of a lamb being taken for sacrifice. I look into her eyes. They are cautious and reserved, nervous, a little annoyed, and…something else. They remind me of our garden back home, like fresh grass in the spring.

I sigh. It's now or never. I look at James again, and my stomach clenches. I want to throw up. Bile bubbles up my throat and threatens to spill. _What have I done?_ I'll do anything to see him happy. I turn to Evans again, and nod slowly.

I take her hand and grasp it as tightly as I am able to. My headache triples in intensity. I moan. _Why me?_

She leans forward and puts her mouth to my ear. Her hair brushes against my cheek. It's soft and cool and smells like vanilla. Her voice is smooth and silky, like firewhiskey on a winter's night. _I hate her._

"Remus," she whispers, and I get shivers down my spine. "I could never come between you. You boys are infinite, you're all so strong and beautiful; so much more so when you're together. _I'm_ the outsider here. It's _your_ choice. You can either accept me, or you can send me away, with my tail between my legs."

I push her away gently, and take her hand. I hope my expression is somber, because frankly I just feel drugged up. This is what James wants. For him, I will keep my temper. For him I will not act rashly, no matter what my gut is telling me. But I want her to realise that this is a once-only opportunity. If she messes up, she will never get this close again. I nod, and I tighten my grip on her hand. This isn't about me. It's about _us_. The Marauders. My family.

Something wet and warm falls onto my skin. I look up and see her crying. Strangely enough, I am not annoyed; instead I feel relief. I sink back into my pillow. I'm getting drowsy. She leans forward and kisses my forehead.

"Thanks for giving me a chance," she says.

My mouth is dry, and my lips are chapped, but I speak anyway. The first thing I've said since I woke up.

"You're welcome."


End file.
